the problem with the chile farm

I was delighted to return home to find that the three different chiles that I planted in the window box outside our kitchen have flourished, and are now ripe.  These are lemon chiles - a deceptively delicate name.  I picked one.  I nibbled the end off it, and thought that it tasted sweet and delicious.  I was about to bake some chicken with it.  I cut a small, delicate slice, and offered it up to Alice - pretty much on the palm of my hand, as though I was giving a carrot to a pony.  She took it up, chewed - and Spat It Out.  And reached for water.  These may be pretty little chiles, but they seem to be shockingly hot.  I could imagine putting a sliver in a martini, but that's about it.